


A leash called you

by err4tic



Series: A Leash Called You [1]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Dom/sub, Friends to something else, M/M, Nipple Play, Offscreen Kink Negotiation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Some angst if you look closely enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/err4tic/pseuds/err4tic
Summary: Never have you been quite under anybody's thrall so utterly that a simple glance from those sharp, feline eyes or a quirk of a dashingly slashed brow has you falling to your knees.
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Taemin
Series: A Leash Called You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980596
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21
Collections: Kinktober Bingo 2020





	A leash called you

**Author's Note:**

> Second Kinktober Bingo fill. 
> 
> Blame my other fandom for the smut. Huhu. (Lol)
> 
> Kink fills: nipple play; orgasm delay/denial
> 
> *title is taken from Criminal - Taemin

"You're so responsive, it's crazy." He hovers over your chest and dabs the tip of a delicate tongue over a nipple. A shudder runs through your body, and you hear a giggle accompany that mindless little jump that your engorged cock makes. 

"That's so cute, Taemin-ah. Wait, I want to see that again…" you watch as his head dips to worry your nipple between his teeth. A guttural moan escapes your puffy lips as your lithe body arches up from the bed. 

"Perfect," he murmurs in that deep, raspy voice of his. "Now, let's see exactly how sensitive you are here…keep your hips down, or I will keep them down, and you wouldn't like it."

 _What makes you think I wouldn't?_ you think mutinously in response to his mean tone, and you feel yourself grow even harder as you contemplate whether you can launch one tiny act of rebellion. 

Then, he proceeds to tongue at a nipple while he attacks the other one with his hand—his palm, his finger pads, the tip of a nail—rolling, scratching, and just clamping around it until you can swear you're going to lose control…

He slowly straightens up, a thin thread of saliva glistening between your skin and his obscene tongue. "I swear, I should have set up a camera rig to record you like this," he says conversationally as he systematically— _unknowingly? that can't be right_ —drives you mad with both hands now. "You look so pretty like this, I want you to see yourself."

Your hands twitch at the need to touch yourself. Your nipples are starting to feel raw, but he doesn't ease up his clever, maddening onslaught. You can feel the head of your cock weep precum onto your navel, but you can't do anything about it at this point—even a futile attempt to seek friction against empty air is not allowed. You dig the fingernails of one hand into the palm of the other, incongruously but fervently praying to the skies for forbearance. 

"You're moving your hips, Taemin-ah. Didn't I tell you to be good and to keep them on the bed?" The flat tone has you whimpering. 

"I'm sorry, hyung." 

Abruptly, he cuts all contact. 

"Hyung!"

"You're not listening to me, Taemin-ah, so might as well get yourself off."

It takes a while to sink in. "C-can I touch myself?" you stumble around the words in an eager tone, dying to place a hand on your cock and twist—

"You know that's not what this is about, Taemin-ah. Nothing below the waist." 

_Fuck. What a cruel bastard._

Gingerly, you unbury your nails from your palm and wiggle your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them. You separate your hands and bring them down to your face. 

He does not even need a rope to keep you in place. Neither do you have special titles—you call him by his name or hyung, he calls you by whatever term of endearment strikes his fancy at the time. And yet, never have you been quite under anybody's thrall so utterly that a simple glance from those sharp, feline eyes or a quirk of a dashingly slashed brow has you falling to your knees. 

His dark eyes flash as he reads your hand movements as something else. "That's right. It will feel much better wet. Do it."

You glare at him, yet your hands move of their own accord. One trails down delicately, seductively (you hope) down your face, your neck, your chest…

The other stays, dragging your lower lip open so you can fuck your mouth with two of your fingers. 

_I'll break you_ , you vow, locking eyes with him as you fellate your index and middle fingers. _I'll make you want me just as badly as I want you_. 

There is mild amusement glowing in the dark pools of his eyes, like he knows exactly what you are thinking. Come to think of it, he has the uncanny knack of reading you like an open book—when he wants to.

The knowledge makes you even more desperate. 

You moan around the digits violating your mouth as the fingers of the other hand close around a sensitive tip. Pinpricks of sensation lance down your body to your bobbing erection, making it twitch. 

"Poor baby. You're having a hard time, aren't you?" He leans over to card a long-fingered hand through your silver hair. “I can’t help it… you look so good like this.” 

His almond-shaped eyes glitter with an unholy light as he bites out a terse, "Wider." He slips in two of his fingers alongside your own. Your jaw hurts, and drool keeps flooding around your fingers as your eyes start to smart. Choking around the intrusion, you see your vision grow fuzzy around the edges. 

"So, this is how you look when your sinful mouth is stuffed full of cock. Beautiful." He prods the pads against your soft palate. You preen inwardly even as you whine against the pressure. He takes your wrist in a firm hold and pulls your fingers out of your mouth, and you lightly clamp your teeth around his. 

"Feisty. Take care of yourself." He drags your hand down to your chest and then does nothing else. 

"Hyung…"

He slips out his fingers from your mouth. "Go on."

"Please fuck me." The words slip out so easily. 

"I'm sorry, baby, not today."

"Please… let me touch myself at least." You're so close.

"No. Should I stop?" 

You so badly want to come that you consider it for a split second. 

"Green."

"Good boy." His eyes do not miss your visceral reaction to the praise. 

"You're almost there. Hands on the headboard."

You grapple overhead for purchase, while your legs are taut in the attempt to keep them from thrashing every which way.

"Should I tie your legs?" He says in a quiet voice as his eyes bore searchingly into yours.

"Please, yes." You're tired of holding back.

A delirious thought occurs to you—in retrospect, the ropes are starting to sound like a good idea, after all. 

_Maybe next time._

He stands up, moves to the foot of the bed to pull one leather shackle up. He straps it around one of your ankles, leaving the other free. 

"Just this one for now." Then he is back kneeling beside you. 

"Now, where are we?" His brows are furrowed in concentration, and you feel your entire body flush with heat as he sweeps his glance all over you, pausing in the middle. For a few seconds, he does nothing while you squirm under the weight of his stare. 

"Please, do something," you gasp out, torso trying to twist as you desperately try to keep your hips plastered on the bed. 

You freeze as he plunges two long fingers—the ones that are just now inside your mouth—into his own mouth to draw enough slick. Then, without preamble, he fucks the two fingers up inside you to unerringly hammer that spot as he uses the fingertips of the other hand to strum an engorged nipple at a mind-numbingly fast pace. 

Your entire body arches up the bed as your mind whites out. You yell out, but you are not aware of it—you only know that you have lost your breath. 

You come down from the high with your temples pounding. You do not know that wounded animal whimpers issue from your lax mouth. The fingers are still inside you, plunging inside you in a steady, languid rhythm that adds to your headache. 

"Please…" you whine, not knowing whether you want him to stop or you want _more_. 

"That was magnificent, Taemin-ah," he murmurs in a low voice that he uses when he speaks in a different language—the one that unfailingly sends shivers down your spine. One fingertip runs teasingly up the entire length of your still-hard cock to playfully dab at the puddle of white at the slit. 

"Hyung, I…" you squirm.

"Hold on…" His fingers momentarily slip out to bathe in the pool of cum on your stomach and continue their assault of your prostate at a maddening pace. Your head spins at the dirtiness of the act and at the painful sensation of his dry hand twisting around your wet, sensitive head. 

He manages to wrench another painful orgasm out of you that way. 

You can only stare up at his smiling eyes (and those unbelievably bashful dimples, dammit!) as you bonelessly languish in the aftermath.

"You did well, Taemin-ah," he says with a gentle smile as wipes a (relatively clean) knuckle against one of the small streams that have escaped your eyes. Your heart, which by now has started to slow down, does a hiccup. 

He stands up and unclasps the shackle from your ankle on the way to the bathroom. After a few moments, he emerges with a wet washcloth and proceeds to wipe the sweat off your face and chest, and then the mess all over your stomach, cock, and ass. 

"Lift up a little, sweetie."

He then slips out the towel that he has thoughtfully placed over the sheets beforehand and throws a blanket over you as he heads to the other room to place the dirty item in your laundry basket. He comes back with a bottle of Pocari Sweat in hand. You try to haul yourself upright so that you can drink, and he slips an arm around you to help. 

"Thanks, Kibum-hyung," you rasp out gratefully as you take a small sip of the salty-sweet drink. 

"Time for me to go, Taemin-ah. No, don't get up," he whispers in your ear as he lands a soft kiss against your temple. He straightens up and puts on his camel leather jacket. 

"Don't forget the meeting with Lee Sooman-saem tomorrow at 2," he says over his shoulder. "Euisoo-hyung will probably pick you up at 12 for lunch." With that, he steps out of your bedroom door and pulls the door shut. 

You collapse against the pillows, unseeing eyes trained toward your white ceiling as you wish yet again that you have the guts to ask him what you really want—for him to stay the night. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> This fic now has a sequel, [The selfish wishes your mouth can't say.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134411)
> 
> Update: the final installment has been posted! Here's [Shift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27398422)


End file.
